The Routes We Take
by 1Am8ored
Summary: The routes we can take have the power to change life. While trying to keep hers from falling apart, can Hermione also save someone else?
1. Chapter 1

As she expected, Hermione awoke to the soft purrs emitted from her ginger hybrid. The morning sun streamed through the tinted glass windows in waves, allowing for the scruffy, old box room to be filled with a mild glow.

Scattered among the floor were many books - dating as far back to 1249 - on healing. Healing charms, healing potions, you name it. Interestingly enough, there were even books on muggle healing remedies. Everything had to be looked into; even the most unlikely of resources could provide a route to the solution.

Naturally, everyone knew Hermione was destined for great things - she was The Brightest Witch of Her Age, after all! But she couldn't exactly become the most experienced, wise and intelligent Witch Of All Age, without completing her schooling. So come September, she would for the last time, board the Hogwarts Express among Ginny, Luna and an abundance of old friends. It was going to be hard without Ron, and Harry, and maybe not as fun, but as the muggles say, the show must go on.

"Hermione! 'Mione! You up yet", shrieked the fiery redhead (most commonly known as Ginny Weasley). Due to Hermione's unbreakable habit of late-night reading, the younger witch had taken it to herself to become Hermione's own, personal human alarm clock, apparating into the apartment everyday.

"Ginny, why can't you give it a rest! Can't a witch have a good lie-in on a blooming Sunday morning without any bloody interruptions?"

An enraged Hermione clambered out of bed, while Ginny poured a cup of coffee, and a shot of vodka. "If you weren't awake, you wouldn't have A, responded. B, known it was me. C, given me that speech. And, please keep it down. I can't take mindless arguments before 10 in the weekends."

Ginny had really perfected putting people down a notch over the summer.

Yawning and rubbing the sleep dust from her eyes, she mumbled: "Sorry, hardly slept a wink last night. I was busy-"

"-Researching, I need to stop. Mum doesn't want us to worry. Plus, the muggle doctors said that it hasn't progressed _that_ far. The chances of eliminating the cells - it's in our favour."

"Just because the wanted outcome is probable, it doesn't mean it's bound to happen. And even if I do somehow find the cure for it, it will help _millions,_ millions, Ginny. This current predicament is only fuelling the fire for me. I'm not going to-"

"To stop. Sounds about right."

Smoothing her birds' nest hair, (or rather poorly, attempting to) she slumped down on the sofa. The subject needed changing.

"Vodka? Or Firewhisky? Either way, too early in the morning, even for you."

Ginny smirked, it suited her, but at the same time, usually only suited Slytherins. "It is for you. Your choice. I know you've been struggling, especially since summer's coming to the end."

"Gin- you're fantastic, and you know I love you, but -"

"Each choice is of significance-"

"Stop cutting me off! Gin-"

"NOPE! NOT LISTENING! LALALALAALALAAAA!"

Her childish smile was contagious, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

"Anyways, as I was saying. The drinks signify the path you choose to take this year, and I'll help you along the way. Cringy, I know, but I'm putting an end to this, this spiral of depression!"

The hesitation in her voice was clear.

Wow. She had actually said it. Depressed. Hermione was depressed.

It made sense. She had seen things she shouldn't have. Done things she shouldn't have. But, she hadn't suffered as much as others did. She didn't lose a twin;a son. She didn't lose _that_ many friends. Evil had been vanquished. Hogwarts was undergoing reparation. The Ministry was being reformed. Why was she feeling like this? Why couldn't it go away? Why couldn't anything go back to how it was before - it wasn't perfect, far from it, but they had been young, innocent, ready to brave the world. Now they, she, couldn't. Time had changed her, and for the worse.

And her parents…..

"Choose! I need time to prepare you for the upcoming year!"

"Prepare me? What the hell is this? Gin - we are not in some crappy total makeover show."

"Uhh. Coffee - safe. Vodka - Fun, Crazy, New, Adventurous. I know what I want you to choose, but no pressure. We've all been through alot."

There was no doubt about it, the whole concept was stupid. A drink would determine her life for the next year, potentially impacting the rest of her life. But all summer, she had suffered in silence, and had drifted from all her friends (except Ginny). It was awful. Being lonely was awful. Even when you're in a crowd, no-one quite understands. And Ginny was right, it was a downward spiral. The constant lows, the dragging paranoia of forever being alone.

"The last one shouldn't be too hard for you, every year at Hogwarts was….something _special_."

Why shouldn't she have some fun? Everyone else was. Before she knew it, her hand shot out for the shot. Only as she downed the contents she understood what she had done. Oh well.

"What do you mean by fun and crazy?", Hermione sheepishly inquired. Ginny scanned her face. She detected a hint of fear.

"New clothes. New hair. New relationships. New you, new year."

New relationships, no thank you. She never really did do well with those things. Even with Ron, it hadn't worked out.

"What is the apprehensiveness for?"

"Obviously, I've never done well with relationships. And who would you even consider me with? Hardly anyone in my year is returning. It's terribly unlikely."

Hermione did build a solid case, but her shy blush gave it all way.

"There are some fab hunks in Slytherin. Not all of them fought in the war, you know. Lots of pureblood families were neutral, and went into hiding. And not all of them are rotten. I might just set myself up; along with you, of course!"

"Like who? Bloody Malfoy? No thank you." Ginny was just too much sometimes. She steadily stuck her hand out for the coffee. Ginny never said she couldn't have both.

"Smart move. Get up. We're going shopping. _New clothes_ , remember? Also, Blaise Zabini." She grinned.

Ginevra really was a brilliant friend. Crazy, maybe. Driven, yes. Psychic, perhaps...


	2. Chapter 2

Walking to the apparition point, he pulled down his sleeves. It had become a bad habit of his, over the summer. Before he went out anywhere, his long sleeves had to cover his whole arm, up to his wrists. He didn't want people looking for the Dark Mark. It was practically translucent now, anyway, especially when Draco applied over 20 glamours to himself _daily_. It had to be done. He didn't want anyone to see his scars…

Returning to his childhood home could have been the hardest thing he did since the war. It had been abandoned soon as 'Saint Potter' revealed it as the residing space of the Dark- Voldemort. Fear of the name increases fear of the thing of itself. The ex-deatheater had nothing to be scared of anymore. Except, the media, the general public, returning to Hogwarts, life.

"Malfoy- No, Zabini Manor," he called out, making a quick pit-stop. Another bad habit. Calling out the destination before apparating.

Pounding the heavy, oak door, he knew the result of his outing would be the same as the countless time before. A shirtless Italian came to his call, pulling a dressing robe over his bare, chiseled chest.

"Calm it down, mate. You'll wake the witch up!"

"Right. Sorry."

The war had changed him, for the worse. Even around his friends, he stayed reserved. Exposing emotions left him vulnerable, open for attack. "You still live with your mother?"

"No. Of course not. She'd keep me up all night with husband no.9. I was on about that half-blood I was chasing after last week. Ferocious. I like 'em like that."

"Not like you wouldn't keep her up with all of _your_ sexual conquests. Honestly Zabini, you need to get your act together. If you continue like this, you'll lose all your money before you can say ' _bumbling, babbling, band of baboons',_ five times over," breathing slowly, he added: "I've come to see if you've changed your mind. Please. Everyone else is too _pussy_ to return. And/ or they blame me for Crabbe. Only you- and the golden trio - know the truth. Please, _Blaise_."

"Damn, that conversation changed quick. I've given you my answer. I'm of age, and 7th year finished, _Draco._ "

Grey eyes met chocolate. Honestly, he held on as best as he could, but Draco had issues of contacts of all kind. Direct eye contact, it reminded him of his father, and of Voldemort. He let go.

"There is nothing for me to go back to. Well, except the bloody media, prejudiced swots, and over-confident tossers, all of whom hate me. And I didn't even fight! After I abandoned you, I apparated home, gathered my things, and my mother, and took a port-key to Italy!"

 _Exactly._ Exactly what Draco would have said himself. The word remained unspoken, but still lingered in the air. It was probably that, and Draco's forlorn face of feelings, that encouraged him to say: "Fine. I'll consider it. _Again._ Only for you, and I will not necessarily say yes."

The youngest Malfoy, nodded, the joy apparent on his face. He felt as if they should embrace in an act of affection. Perhaps a hug? The golden trio, and all the imbeciles in other houses did that. They were good people. So, hugs _were_ a good thing? He ought to give it a try. He ought to be good.

But by the time he had decided, it was too late, and both of the 18-year-olds were awkwardly standing around the doorway, waiting for the other to initiate some form of communication. Neither moved an inch.

"Goodbye, Zabini. Have a shower. You reek of it."

Flashing a signature Slytherin smirk,he laughed, "Ciao."


	3. Chapter 3

story being discontinued, however these chapters will be incorporated into a new story.


End file.
